


5.5

by Thomas_Fooll



Series: Numbers (Joshler) [3]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Josh Dun Being an Asshole, M/M, Post-Break Up, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 09:20:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20636795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomas_Fooll/pseuds/Thomas_Fooll
Summary: AU about lost not-even-soulmates and cold September, and it's certainly not the one to become the Book of the Year, but. For Tyler it becomes a breaking point, and he cannot do anything to resolve that.





	5.5

**Author's Note:**

> This is a translation from Russian. You can read original text here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/6038261

confess! always a flaw

confess! a flaw that gets in

confess! always a crack. shadow!

untold! the hoax that harms, the hoax that harms the spirit. the first one to arrive, the last to confess.

they've got their arms outstretched, they've got their front row tickets, they're the first to arrive for the trial, for the raid.

we run, we run for first- off the road and off the record- we run, we run for first but the first come in second, when we spit out the names of those we betrayed. © the conspiracy of seeds

This is just another story about lost soulmates, one's dumb actions and cold autumn months, and Tyler isn't completely sure what is better: the conscious breakdown he had this morning while showering or the realisation of the fact that all this story went according to the template they were taught as kids.

This is just another story about the consequence of being held captive by your own fears and not being brave enough to escape, and it is certainly not the one to become Bestseller Of The Year according to ill-fated The New York Times or some critic from Daily Telegraph, but. For Tyler this story becomes a breaking point, and he cannot do anything to resolve that.

A bestseller of his life.

The author has exceeded his own success.

For this time at least.

More details about this fast summer, holding the memories of twenty-thirty days completely dedicated to another person just because he was so eager to that pushing the urge away was almost impossible. More reasons for all that happened and the words spoken while it did:

Tyler thought he was in love.

Tyler thought he has found his soulmate.

The soulmate did not agree.

And, again, it just so happened that July has turned into a month of complete frustration with everything he once knew; and, again, it just so happened that these words about rewinding '_it all back so that no one notices as soon as it doesn't work out the way it should_' ended up being just words, and these short messages, like 'g'night' and also 'lmao, look at this meme, dude'. No more, no less, just a try- a mediocre at best one- to get back to something that loomed over them before this May as this stupid 'you're my friend'.

He just tried to come first.

He just betrayed himself and someone else- someone he shouldn't ever have betrayed.

Or, alternatively, he has been betrayed by them, he's still not entirely sure, how this works.

A fool indeed.

Now September strikes his cheeks with damned +5.5F, and his hands turn into immobile wooden sculptures, covered with black gouache paint and superglue, leaving a cracked windbitten shell of his skin on the outside. Now it's all about coming home after the sun goes down, and fatigue with a constant urge to leave in favour of the cold taking over - without hats and scarves, opening his chest and being Danko, washing all the usual colours off the Northern People's faces:

First, cyan- because blue is better.

Then, mustard-yellow- because neon one became so dear this summer.

Last, white- because there's too much of it already.

'_Now_', such a simple word, tugging at the heartstrings with it's meaning, suggesting existence of some '_then_', hiding a deep, ripe, aching nostalgia in itself. Tyler hates fucking '_now_' with all his guts, but this September makes this word its- and his- mantra, creating a dissonance with kissed by cold autumn wind burning-red cheeks.

Now he doesn't even know when the tears come, streaming down his face, let alone why this happens. Now ideas for stories in Instagram, substituting for vines, come so rarely, and words in his weekly essays don't look right. It's like September brings a curse upon him, God.

(Why is it so cold in here?)

(You don't know the real cold.)

Another urge that comes when it's +5.5F outside, is to spit out the names of those you betrayed and cursed.

It's not as simple as it seems, but.

He tries his best.

The Northern City turns into a complete freakshow this September.

He notices how strange it is, seeing all these pretentious grimaces and knowing the rationale behind them. It happens when you <s>think you</s> know the person. He notices how strange it is, and writes a whole book about it, about Josh Dun and his unbearable influence, and about how it is sometimes important to let a person go. (It's really not, at least Tyler doesn't feel like it does something for him). He notices how strange it is, knowing everything in advance and thinking:

"_Was I that stupid as well?_"

Or

"_Wow, that looks like a real foolery_".

Like reading a story you have know the ending of for such a long time it feels like you've been there for all your life.

Now, when it's +5.5F outside, this feeling doesn't let go 24/7. Tyler holds onto, onto, onto those commandments, like

"Thou shalt not covet"

And

"Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour",

As though it defines his very self.

Somewhere in Messiah's Handbook old man Rich Bach wrote:

"You are free to create

And to honour

Any past

Of your choice

To cure and transform

Your present".

And this is also true, but why then he's so desperately tied to these grimaces when his common sense yells to let it all go?

And, yeah, this is all just a stupid prank, go figure who decided to play it and on whom. Aching high he gets from tricking the trickster falls victim to realisation that he's also being tricked even if he was sure that it's not like that.

This is just a story about the lost not-even-soulmates and cold September, and it's certainly not the one to become the Book of the Year, but the line about spat out names and hoax that hurts the spirit from the song, bearing the fragrance of this frustrated July. Tyler writes a whole book about that. A bestseller of his life.

The temperature outside raises to +6F.


End file.
